


At Last

by vanyt525



Series: Never Leave My Side [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dry Humping, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Established Relationship, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post season finale, Viktor not Victor, Viktor with K, lots and lots of petnames for Yuuri, morning dry humping, mushy sappy fluff, sort of fluff?, yuuri has a freckle fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 06:35:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9479582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanyt525/pseuds/vanyt525
Summary: “Miliy,”he whispers and he can feel Yuuri shiver in front of him as he takes a step forward, his hand pulling Yuuri against him as he pressed the hand he held against his face, breathing in everything that Yuuri is as the younger man leans into him, nuzzling his head against his chest._______________________In which Viktor thanks the heavens for Yuuri Katsuki.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Oh heeeey~
> 
> So, I got really carried away listening to some very sensual and romantic Spanish songs and every single time I hear them they remind me of these two... That mixed with my messy sleeping schedule added up to this... and I can only say I hope you guys enjoy it because I sure enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Also: I got very technical with muscles because I started going back to the gym and I'm obsessed with muscles and specially back muscles... and freckles... ////
> 
> Lateral dorsis are the muscles under your armpits, they run all the way down to above your lower back, the thoracolumbar fascia is the big muscle that stretches throughout your lower back and the iliac crests are the muscles above your gluteus maximus.

Every time he looks into those big, innocent, brown eyes he knows… He knows he’s hungry. 

One look, that’s all it took for Viktor Nikiforov, five times gold medalist and world champion labeled as The Living Legend, to understand that he had been wandering through life with hunger. And it only took a single look into those eyes for him to find what he was missing.

Those eyes, those innocent brown eyes are currently hidden away behind heavy eyelids, and covered in a mess of tangled dark locks – Yuuri’s hair had gotten long – he thinks as he carefully feathers the strays, as a slight frown disarrays Yuuri’s angelic look. It’s only for a second, before he’s back to his light breathing – his lips parted and his breath coming out in deep, slow breaths… who would’ve thought little Yuuri’s a mouth breather. 

A chuckle escapes Viktor as Yuuri’s weight shifts closer to him, the brunette nuzzling his face into the hollow of his shoulder. 

“What’s so funny?” His voice comes out a whisper, soft and deep drowned with sleep.

Viktor pulls his neck away, angling his face to look down at Yuuri, his eyes still closed as he nuzzles deeper into Viktor’s body, humming contentedly when Viktor’s head hits the pillow and free hand is now running through his tangled tresses. 

“I was just thinking of how cute you look when you sleep, my little mouth breather.” 

His statement earns him a groan, and before he knows it Yuuri is turning around, reaching for a pillow to press over his head, but not before Viktor notices that his ears are pink. “Y-You’re horrible!” Yuuri’s complaint is muffled by the pillow.

Viktor laughed and extended his arms to reach out and tangle around Yuuri’s body, enveloping his lithe body like a boa constrictor wraps around its prey and Yuuri discarded of the pillow, his hands meeting Viktor’s under his shirt as Viktor dipped his head and took a deep breath. Yuuri smells sweet and faint, like lavender and vanilla and all things that make you feel soothed and warm, and he rejoices as said warmth crawls its way through his body and settles on his stomach.

“It’s so late.” Yuuri muses as he stretches against him, and Viktor feels as every muscle flexes under him, “How come you’re still in bed?” He asks as he reaches for his phone on the night stand and unplugs it from its charger.

Viktor can see the countless bubbles of old notifications, from social media to Phichit blowing up his phone. His grip on Yuuri lessens as he frees him, turning around to roll on his back and stretch, swinging his legs over his side of the bed and wrapping himself in his silk rob and heading to the en suite. He turns the water on and lets it run to warm up as he walks out, seeing Yuuri sitting by his end of the bed and stretching his arms up high, his head lolled to the side and it gives him such a childlike look that Viktor can’t help but to smile and shake his head.

“We need to schedule you a haircut. Your hair’s getting out of control,” Viktor chimed as he walked into his closet, picking up the clothes for the day: a pair of black sweats.

He hears Yuuri’s voice muttering something as he reaches for two towels and walks out, “What was that?”

Brown eyes look up at him from behind thick glass and he becomes aware of the hunger again, that hunger that’s consumed him for 20 years, withering him away without him ever taking notice. He’d been starved, ice skating being nothing but a supplement to make up for what was missing, for what was being left unattended, and it wasn’t until he had seen the inconsistent way that Yuuri skated that he noticed that he was famished and fatigued, depleted and malnourished. 

He smiles at him, with that perfect ten kilowatt smile that could brighten the whole galaxy should the sun ever decide to cease being the center of it.

“I said you’re just jealous.” The brunette said as he swung his legs over his side of the bed and got up, his big sleeping shirt exposing one of his shoulders mixed with messy hair gave him a disheveled appearance and Viktor could feel the blood rush throughout his whole body disguised as a shiver, and just then he’s greeted by Yuuri’s grin, much bright, much like the sun, and he doesn’t know what he’s done to ever deserve this, but he’s thankful, so thankful as he walks over and kisses the exposed shoulder and walks away, back into the bathroom.

Yuuri stands there, pink dusting his features as he feels the searing sensation left lingering in the soft skin and he swears it burns and leaves it’s mark disguised as the many freckles that settle themselves in his tanned skin. He smiles to himself and walks into the walking closet, reaching for the first pair of clean underwear in his drawer and the shirt that hung right next to his towel, following suit to where Viktor had disappeared into not too long ago.

The bathroom is big, spacious and full of natural light that filtered through the windows close to the ceiling; you could tell the whole place was designed to suit Viktor Nikiforov’s: elegant, sharp and simple, yet every detail was a clear reminder of the owner of the house. The bare white walls, the flowers by the sink – a bouquet of white and lilac peonies accentuated with pale green hydrangeas – to the minimalist chic accents for the toiletries, everything a representation of Viktor Nikiforov, _the_ Viktor Nikiforov.

Not the Viktor that currently washed his face thoroughly in the sink, making a splashing mess of water, but the Viktor Nikiforov that was portrayed to the fans. Yuuri’s Viktor. His Viktor. _His._

Viktor moves to reach for the small face towel, but when he feels soft hands reaching for his shoulder and looks up at the mirror he sees Yuuri’s right next to him, his touch a command for him to turn around and face him, his lithe and delicate hands holding the small towel that he uses to slowly tap his face dry as Viktor shoots a hand up, grabbing Yuuri by the wrist and bringing it close to feather his lips over the pulse there, and he can swear he can feel it throbbing against his lips, and it’s just like that when he becomes aware that moments when they’re skin to skin time becomes obsolete, non-existent. 

_“Miliy,”_ he whispers and he can feel Yuuri shiver in front of him as he takes a step forward, his hand pulling Yuuri against him as he pressed the hand he held against his face, breathing in everything that Yuuri is as the younger man leans into him, nuzzling his head against his chest.

Now it’s Yuuri’s time to breathe him in, and he smells like the hard vodka he drank last night and the cologne he gave him for his birthday and it’s just so Viktor. So his. And he hums contentedly as he feels himself melting into Viktor.

 _“Moye solnyshko,”_ Viktor chants as he places a tiny butterfly kisses to his forehead and down his nose, _“Moye zvyozdochka,”_ he adds as he peppers the corners of his mouth, _“Moye zolotse.”_ He finishes as he presses his lips, ever so tenderly, over Yuuri’s and this is what heaven is made of – of this soft and inexplicable feeling that reaches such heights that he feels like he’s just been kicked out of orbit and he can’t breathe because the minute he breaks away from this it’s all over.

And his hands are down, running down Yuuri’s side, tracing every flexing and twitching muscle on their voyage, discovering and rediscovering places that Viktor could’ve sworn he had already memorized from the hollow that forms under Yuuri’s lateral dorsis when he lifts his arms, to the dimples between his thoracolumbar fascia and his iliac crest, to the firmness of his glutes, where the skin has been adorned with small and soft scars left by the passage of time and weight fluctuation, and where he grips, lifting Yuuri and pressing him against him and the cold marbled counter, earning a soft moan – or whimper – on the Japanese’s end.

And he just doesn’t know, everything is a haze, he’s lost. Lost in the sounds of lips crushing against each other, and the way Yuuri’s soft tongue feels against his, and the way his hands travel down Yuuri’s thighs searching, meeting with the hem of his shirt and pulling up, dreading the minute he was stupid enough to even consider breaking the kiss in order to get him off the damn shirt.

But Yuuri’s hands are back in his hair and his mouth on his mouth and everything feels right. His world’s axis has been aligned once again, and his hands run down Yuuri’s back, and Yuuri’s hands run down Viktor’s chest and work on getting his robe untied and rushed off his body, pooling around Viktor’s ankles as he pushes him away, brow eyes behind heavy lids, pupils full blown and lips plumped and pink from kissing and they’re both drinking each other in. Yuuri’s eyes on Viktor’s milky skin, his fingers feathering his chest, moving carefully over his plectorals and over to his trapezium, a light touch that makes Viktor chuckle and his skin prickle as Yuuri examines all the freckles there, they’re light, barely noticeable, but they’re there and he bites his lips, runs his tongue over his bottom lip and before he knows is his mouth is on Viktor’s shoulder, on a kissing frenzy, small little bursts of emotion being poured into his skin.

 _“Mine, mine, mine,”_ Is the litany that leaves Yuuri’s lips as Viktor dips his head resting his forehead on Yuuri’s shoulder, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Always,” Viktor echoes, “Forever,” and he understands this intensity that is to love Yuuri Katsuki, the strange connection between them and how he never saw it feasible, and the claws that tear at his heart, the need for Yuuri. The hunger being satiated in a way he never thought possible. And he finds himself thanking whichever saint decided to bless them with this, whatever this is.

Yuuri pulls away, leaving a wet and scalding hot trace from his shoulder to his jaw, to his cheek to his mouth, where he deliberately presses himself and invites himself for a taste, his hips swaying against Viktor’s and the silver haired man bites back a hiss and his hands roam back down to Yuuri’s glutes, grabbing him firmly and pressing him against his own growing need with want and with leftover hunger. 

And he feels it, finally recognizing it. Acknowledging what it feels like holding his breath, tight chested, and with the bubbling tickles that being in love bring him. And he knows, he knows he’s a better Viktor thanks to Yuuri, and he would give all his gold medals if it meant more mornings like this, pressed against flushed skin, moving in blissful and glorious tandem as their bodies melted into each other, and understanding that nothing lasts forever but when their skins meet, that’s when he can find something remotely close to infinity. 

And so he gasps against Yuuri’s mouth, and softly bites down on his lip, as their hips frantically grind against each other and he finds himself wondering why was life so cruel, giving this to him so late, and he could feel himself getting lost, only to be pulled back to reality by the way Yuuri calls his name, and it’s like a prayer, it’s like he was meant to call him, and suddenly life isn’t so cruel anymore, and he’s forever thankful.

“You’re beautiful,” He mutters next to Yuuri’s ear, “You’re so beautiful,” He whispers with eloquence and love because that’s what Yuuri deserves.

And Yuuri just nods against his shoulder as his hands dig into Viktor’s moussed hair, gasping and chanting ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s and Viktor can tell this is his crescendo and he’s reaching such heights, and he’s crashing, and he’s just a mess of sobs and hisses and wetness and Viktor joins him, becoming his own mess of gratitude and love and small tears that mix with his sweat and he’s thankful, so thankful for Yuuri’s nearsightedness because they can’t both be crying at the same time and for the same reason, especially not him, Viktor Nikiforov.

Yuuri takes a deep breath and pushes away, pressing his forehead to Viktor’s chest, “Good morning?” He can hear the smile on his voice, as Yuuri’s face lifts up and he’s faced with that smile, and he’s blessed. He’s lucky. He’s the luckiest. And he’s been feeling so so thankful. 

Finally. Viktor finally understands… and Viktor no longer knows what hunger feels like. 

After all, he’s got the most delicious pork bowl of them all… and it’s all his.

So he smiles, “Good morning,” he says. Because all of this, the good and the bad, is his. Always.

Forever.

At last.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I slipped some Russian in there. 
> 
> _Miliy_ means dear
> 
>  _Moye Solnyshko_ means my sun
> 
>  _Zvyozdochka_ means little star
> 
>  _Zolotse_ means gold.
> 
> Anyhow! If you liked it please feel free to comment, and if you think there's room for improvement I'm always open for constructive criticism, so drop a few lines! I enjoy reading comments! :D
> 
> EDIT: Thanks to @rogovich for the Russian corrections. You're the real MVP!


End file.
